


in your orbit

by Anonymous



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gay Disaster Song Mingi, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Smut, minjoong for the soul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22934887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Mingi woke up groggy. With a groan, he rolled over. The sheets felt wonderfully cool and smooth against his face, which was the first clue that he wasn't in his own bed, with its cheap linens. There was also the fact that he was completely sprawled out and his legs still didn't hang off the edge.He cracked his eyes open. The room was only dimly lit, but clearly it was later in the day because the sun was trying to get around the blinds.Hongjoong's blinds. Hongjoong's bed.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 107
Collections: Anonymous





	in your orbit

Mingi jogged across the parking lot, backpack swinging haphazardly by the single strap thrown over his shoulder. Down the side of the building, he slipped through the employee entrance of the private club, pushing open the heavy door with its flaking golden paint. He was late, and on a Saturday night, too. 

He dumped his shit on the counter in the breakroom. _Fuck_ the city buses, seriously. Honestly, he should’ve just walked - he’d have made it on-time and without being forcibly subjected to 30 minutes of breathing hot, moist stranger aroma. Mingi stripped his hoodie off quickly - too quickly, his arm got stuck in the garment and he whined out loud in frustration -, pulled the dark, sheer shirt underneath down where it had ridden up his tummy in the struggle and switched his sneakers out for stompy black boots. 

After shoving his bag into his locker and tucking his phone into his waistband - the back pockets of his leather pants simply would not accommodate it - Mingi bent down to see himself in the too-short wall mirror. Suppressing a sigh, he snatched the red Santa hat hanging off of the corner and pulled it over his unruly hair before rushing out.

He felt the music before he heard it. The lights, the smoke, the chatter, the music; the club was filling up fast and the night was in full swing. A duo of male dancers were doing a routine on the main stage, in different states of undress. Mingi made a beeline for the bar. 

“Little late, princess?”

“Shut up,” Mingi said, swinging around the dark, shellacked bartop. He frowned at Jongho. “The roads were really shit.”

Jongho made a noncommittal noise, reaching directly behind Mingi to grab a bottle. “What’s with the nerdy look tonight? I dunno if that’ll get you more tips.” Mingi didn’t process the words at first, too busy scrutinizing the muscles in Jongho’s exposed arms as they bunched attractively under his skin with the reach. Mingi tried to get built like that, he really did, but the last time he was at the gym he almost popped a nervous boner from how close the crotch of the guy spotting him was to his face and hasn’t been able to in good conscious return there since. 

Mingi blinked. “Huh?”

Jongho tapped his own cheekbone hintingly. “Forgot something?”

“Motherfuck,” Mingi made a face, hand coming up to touch his glasses. He forgot his contacts. He considered taking them off, but his wallet would suffer less from the lack of tips than it would from him blindly spilling drinks everywhere.

“Where do you want me tonight?”

Jongho finished the last drink he was working on. He waggled his eyebrows. “Some VIPs in section six that requested you in particular. Don’t keep them waiting any longer.” 

Mingi nodded absently, picking up the heavy, drink-laden platter. Jongho smacked his butt encouragingly as he navigated by him, tray balanced on one hand. “Good luck!”

Section six overlooked the dance floor from the upper level. Mingi climbed the double set of stairs, where the dimly-lit area with businessmen occupying various tables and couches came into view. Some of the dancer boys were occupied with them, either hanging off the men’s arms and chatting amicably or sprawled across laps and grinding down into appreciative hands.

Hongjoong Kim was lounging on a middle coach. The owner of the most exclusive gentleman’s club on this side of the city; sitting primly with his legs crossed delicately at the ankles. Men on either side of him leaned towards him, into his gravity - trying to keep Mr. Kim’s valuable attention. 

Hongjoong wasn’t much older than Mingi was. He knew this as a fact, but couldn’t tell you the man’s actual age. Hongjoong was an imposing figure; impossibly magnetic; there was something initially offputting about his features, sharp and almost catlike in appearance. But Mingi had worked at Wonderland for almost two whole years, since he was twenty - he wasn’t scared of him anymore. Not really.

The moment Mingi hit the platform, Hongjoong’s dark eyes latched onto him. “Mingi.”

Mingi’s poor little heart went doubletime at the sound of that lilting voice calling his name. Which was ridiculous, because Hongjoong was his _boss_ , had been for so long, and whatever effect he had on Mingi should have dissipated by now - but his adams apple still jolted in his throat nonetheless.

Tray propped on one hip, Mingi made his way over, immediately passing the straight double scotch he knew to be Hongjoong’s over. “Hey, boss!”

Hongjoong sipped his drink, eyes curious over the rim of his glass. “You were late tonight?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. The bus - well. Yeah, sorry,” Mingi cringed, biting back an excuse.

“And the schoolboy look?” Hongjoong’s mouth quirked at the corners.

Mingi touched his frames uneasily. “Do you want me to change them?”

“No. It suits you. How’re your classes going, anyway?”

Hongjoong knew Mingi was in school, for accounting. Hell, it was the reason he started working at the club - he needed money, and he needed a job with hours that didn’t conflict with his classes during the day. Still, it always made his ears just a little warm, hearing Hongjoong ask. Knowing he remembered.

“I just finished up with finals, so I should be pretty free for the rest of the month,” Mingi hmm’ed. “I can probably pick up a few extra shifts, even.”

“That’s good,” Hongjoong smiled, tilting his head. Mingi’s eyes darted to the exposed V of skin at his chest, the cut of his fancy, silky top revealing in the best way. He dragged his gaze away quickly. “December is busy. Lots of lonely men around the holidays, looking for a festive time.” He brought his glass to his lips, eyes playful.

Mingi laughed, awkwardly. What do you _say_ to that. He wanted to ask, _are you lonely_? But what came out was “So that’s why you make us wear this shit.” He tugged at his Santa hat.

“I could swap it for some antlers if it bothers you so much.”

“Nope!” Mingi popped the ‘p’. “I love it. Love this hat. Its a great hat.”

“Right,” Hongjoong murmured. He put his emptied glass back on Mingi’s tray, fingers brushing against his arm. 

“You’d better deliver the rest of these drinks.”

“Yes, boss.”

A flirtatious smile slipped into place as he walked away from Hongjoong. Being friendly meant more tips, especially with this crowd. He stopped in front of the next man on the sofa and made a show of looking the businessman over appreciatively. Scanning his tray Mingi teased, “Now, you, sir, must be the dry Manhattan.”

“Good guess.” The man smiled good-naturedly.

Mingi looked more closely at the man as he handed over the drink. It was fun to sometimes speculate about the men who came here. Was he a married man looking for some fun? A big-spender looking to have one-on-one time with a dancer? This man looked a little uncomfortable, his finger tapped against his glass uneasily. 

Mingi moved onto the next man, smiling charmingly. He even managed to keep his smile in place as this man groped his ass after his drink was delivered. It wasn’t the first time one of the patrons of the club got handsy with him; it wasn’t even the hundredth time. It wasn’t ideal, but he was confident in his ability to handle just about anyone, and if he couldn’t, if someone got too forceful, well, that’s what the club security was for. Now though, he just smiled and gave his hips a little extra swish walking away.

Mingi worked his way around the room. The last glass on his tray was for a man in a flawless, black suit seated on a low, leather chair by the railing. He was a regular at the club and a friend of Hongjoong’s. Seonghwa Park was movie-star gorgeous. And completely intimidating at first. Over the years, though, Mingi had gotten to know him - he wasn’t half as scary as he liked to appear.

“And the last drink!” Mingi stopped in front of Seonghwa, tray held behind his back mischievously. “Shirley Temple, right?”

Seonghwa cocked a brow and held out his hand. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty, Mingi.”

Mingi grinned and took the dirty martini out from behind his back, setting it in Seonghwa’s waiting hand. 

“Take a seat for a minute, will you?”

With a cocky smile, Mingi fluidly slipped over the man’s lap, straddling his hips. “This was what you had in mind, right?”

Seonghwa made a considering noise. “No, but it’ll do.” One hand rested on Mingi’s hip, the other reaching up to tug his hat. “What’s with the hat?”

Mingi grimaced. “Right? I don’t think Hongjoong will ever abolish the December policy. I’ve given up hope at this point.”

Seonghwa’s eyes ran down the rest of Mingi’s outfit, hands smoothing over the sheer, thin material of his shirt and stopping at the waist of his leather pants. “Santa hat doesn’t really match with everything else.”

Mingi batted his eyes dramatically. “Maybe I was going for the naughty look.”

Seonghwa snorted.

“Mingi.” They both looked up to find Hongjoong standing over their chair. His eyes were shadowed by the lighting, making his expression unreadable. His fingers touched Mingi’s shoulder, feather-light. “Am I paying you to sit around?”

Seonghwa pulled a face at Hongjoong. “Don’t be a grinch, Hongjoong, come on. I’m sure Mingi would sit on your lap too if you asked,” he patted Mingi’s flank.

Hongjoong face did a thing. “Mingi, just - get back to work.” He turned.

“Yes, boss,” Mingi squeaked, removing himself from Seonghwa’s lap. Seonghwa tucked a roll of bills into Mingi’s back pocket, sneakily.

Mingi heard Hongjoong say something, sharply, as soon as he was a few steps away, and Seonghwa responding in a similarly cross tone. Between the music and the chatter all around there was no way he could’ve made out what was said.

xXx

“My god, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Wooyoung purred, leaning on the counter. 

Mingi grinned, setting down the glass he was polishing. “Hey! How’s your night been so far?”

“Pretty excellent, i’m done dancing for the night. You doing section six today?”

“Yeah,” Mingi blinked, then narrowed his eyes at his coral-haired friend. “Good guess, how’d you know?”

“‘S not a guess, I saw the big boss up there earlier,” Wooyoung says easily. “He always has you do his sections.”

“He does not.” Mingi said. Does he? He did get Hongjoong’s section pretty often, but it couldn’t be every time.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow.

“He definitely doesn’t.” Mingi repeated.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, and leers over the counter at Mingi. “I don’t blame him, who wouldn’t wanna see that ass running back and forth all night, right?”

Mingi’s ears heated up. “Wooyoung!” He scolded. Secretly, he might have been a little pleased. Just a little.

“Fine! Fine, my lips are sealed.”

“I’ve got something to seal your lips around,” a visibly drunk man to Wooyoung’s left interjected.

Wooyoung turned, lip curled menacingly. A shadow fell across the bar right as Wooyoung opened his mouth to retort. 

“Is he bothering you guys?” Yunho, their bouncer - and part-time bodyguard for Wooyoung, honestly - loomed.

“He’s harmless,” Wooyoung sighed, laying a hand on Yunho’s chest. He fluttered his lashes. “Thank you, anyways, stud.”

“Of course,” Yunho said, cheeks rosy and chest puffing imperceptibly. 

Mingi watched the interaction, a little wistful. Mingi tried to ignore it, he did, convinced himself it was just the seasonal sadness hitting especially hard. But he was lonely. He’d felt lonely for a while. And he loved his friends, God, he loved them, but he couldn’t help the little bubble of envy. Mingi wanted someone to be his. Mingi wanted to be someone’s, too.

A roar went up from the crowd. Mingi turned towards the stage. One of the dancers had a camera with an arching plastic arm coming out from it, a bunch of mistletoe hung from the head of it. Fuck. The mistletoe cam. 

The mistletoe cam was the club’s promotional staff’s idea; and also Mingi’s most hated tradition. Maybe hated was a strong word. But the camera, the camera that sent the live image to a projector that splashed the feed all over the stage - really not his favorite part of the holiday season.

The dancer holding the cam worked his way down the dance floor, each couple caught trying to outdo each other in turn, kissing with tongue, groping, moaning, putting on a show; to the delight of the watching crowd. 

Mingi immediately turned, starting to walk towards the bar - thinking he could lurk in the shadows till it was over. Which was a mistake. The arm swiveled in his direction and moved towards him, effectively trapping him.

A few feet away, Wooyoung dragged Yunho down for a kiss, filthy and theatric. Wolf whistles filled the air. The cam turned towards Mingi, and with it, the eyes of hundreds in the club. Mingi glanced warily at the closest dude to him - he wasn’t hideous, but he wasn’t ...

The crowd heckled him for his hesitation, and the dancer behind the camera pursed his lips at Mingi mockingly. Mingi sighed embarrassedly, and turned, offering his cheek to the man. He let his eyes drift closed to avoid watching himself on the huge screen. 

He could feel the man moving in; smell the cigarette smoke on his clothes.

Then suddenly, the crowd went crazy. Mingi had no clue what had happened until he felt a hand close over his shoulder, pulling him back around the other way. His eyes popped open.

Hongjoong was standing there. There wasn’t a person in the club who didn’t know who Hongjoong was, and the audience response reflected that. Mingi’s mouth fell open, staring down like a deer in headlights at the strange, confusing man before him.

Hongjoong smiled his crooked little smile, bottom lip wet like he had licked it. His hand traveled up to curl around the back of Mingi’s neck. It would have only taken a second but time seemed to move much slower for Mingi. Hongjoong’s other hand came up, pinched the arm of his glasses, and pulled them off. Mingi’s vision blurred immediately. He felt Mingi pull him forward, using the hand on his neck, then he felt Hongjoong’s lips brush against his own. It started off softly, lips just feeling and teasing. Mingi parted his lips, maybe a little too easily. Mingi was a little too easy for Hongjoong, in general. His heart was beating so loudly, he was sure Hongjoong could feel the pulse under his hand. He couldn’t really form any complex thought beyond _hongjoong sexy_ and _am I hard right now?_

Needily, Mingi angled forward a little bit, asking for more. Hongjoong obliged. Mingi gasped into Hongjoong’s mouth, fingers curling hesitantly into Hongjoong’s beltloops as the other man kissed him breathless, licking and sucking and _biting_. When they parted they just stood there, breaths mingling for a moment before Hongjoong let go of his neck, allowing Mingi to straighten up again.

Mingi felt his glasses being placed back on his nose. Eyesight corrected, he was able to see Hongjoong’s face - his pink tongue flashed out, dragging out over his kiss-red lips. Hongjoong held Mingi’s stare, eyes dark with _something_ and finally turned around, disappearing into the crowd. Thankfully, the camera disappeared as well.

“Mingi!” Wooyoung’s exasperated tone of voice made it obvious he had been calling Mingi’s name with zero response.

“I, what?” Mingi said, dazed, touching his lips tenderly with his fingers. What the fuck.

Wooyoung whistled, long and low. “That was some kiss.”

Mingi laughed, after a beat. The sensation of Hongjoong’s touch on his neck, of the kiss, of his stare - it all stayed with him for the rest of the night.

xXx

By the time the last guests left the club it was nearly 3 a.m.

Some staffer, probably Jongho, had put a slow track that filled the air, an odd shift from the pulsing dance and club music that had filled the air for hours now. 

A rag thrown over his shoulder, Mingi had just finished wiping the tables in the VIP lounge and was upturning the stools onto the tables to clear the floor for sweeping.

“How was the night?”

Mingi jumped at the voice. He turned and found Hongjoong, as expected, leaning against the pillar at the top of the stairs. There was a half-finished drink in his hand and the knot in the scarf tied stylishly around his neck had loosened.

Mingi’s fingers played with the hem of the rag until he forced himself to stop.

“Uh, pretty fine, boss. Your friends polished off five bottles of Dom and two of Macallan on their own. And the other sections looked busy, too.”

Hongjoong’s eyes didn’t leave Mingi as he swirled his drink slowly and questioned, “What was the year on the Macallan?”

“1841 replica,” Mingi answered without missing a beat.

Hongjoong laughed, an inviting sound. “I remember how you used to answer that question.” He lowered his voice mockingly. “‘ _Friggin’ old, who cares?_ ’”

Mingi found himself returning the smile, shyly, relaxing and leaning back against a table as he answered, “Yeah, well, I figured out the tip I get on a 350 dollar bottle of 1841 replica is so much better than on a 50 dollar 2003.”

“Good to see that commerce education going to good use.”

Mingi resisted the urge to stick out his tongue childishly and instead flipped his boss the bird. Hongjoong just laughed.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and then Seonghwa appeared, in even more in disarray than Hongjoong, having lost his jacket sometime during the night and his shirt sleeves rolled up sloppily. The man looked between them and raised an eyebrow. “Damn.”

Hongjoong inclined his head. “Something the matter?”

“Not really,” Seonghwa sighed. “Just disappointed. I was hoping to catch an encore of your earlier performance. Can I ask if it was rehearsed? You both seemed pretty practiced. Is there something you wanted to tell me, boys?” He waggled his eyebrows, and laughed as Mingi sent his rag sailing across the space and smacked him in the chest with a squawk. 

“You’re crazy.” Mingi laughed, too-hard. “There’s nothing like that going on. Between me and Mr. Kim? Come on. It was just a dumb little mistletoe kiss.” The denials came out, tripping over one another. He knew he was denying too fervently, but he was embarrassed and he didn’t want them to think he was some starry-eyed idiot who read too much into a kiss. He didn’t want to weird Hongjoong out, make him think Mingi _expected_ something to come from it. People kissed each other all the time without it meaning anything.

Seonghwa looked at him. “No?”

“No!” Mingi swore vehemently, face going up in flames. “Absolutely not. Never. Tell him, boss.”

Hongjoong looked perfectly composed, maybe even a little amused. His knuckles were white around his glass. “Obviously nothing is going on between us. Let it go, Seonghwa, clearly the idea bothers him.”

“Doesn’t _bother_ me,” Mingi contradicted, mumbling, “‘S just an absurd suggestion is all.”

“Don’t forget to mop the stairs.”

It took Mingi a moment to follow the abrupt change in topic. He straightened up, nodding his assent.

Hongjoong turned, dismissing Mingi and starting down the stairs. Mingi watched his lean shoulders disappear from sight. “Come back to my office, Seonghwa, I’ll show you the designer’s plans for the new stage show.”

“See you around,” Seonghwa waved with a smile, before turning and following Hongjoong.

Mingi saluted back. He mopped the stairs, and wondered what the hell went on in Hongjoong’s pretty, pretty head.

xXx

Mingi was just finishing up the stairs when to saw Jongho waving him over from the bar. He propped the mop against the stairs and jogged over, wiping his hands on the rag.

"Yeah?"

Jongho had a stack of glasses drying on the bar. "Mingi, there's... a phone call for you, I - I sent it to the break room."

That was unexpected. No one called him at work. All his friends would just call his cell and leave messages. "Could you take a message? I'm almost done here."

Lips set into a grim line, Jongho answered, "No, you better take it. I'll get someone to put the mop away."

With a shrug, Mingi hurried into the back and into the break room. His palms were sweaty with a growing feeling of apprehension. The line was blinking on the phone and he picked up the receiver, pressing the connection button. "This is Mingi speaking... yes? Yes. Oh, God? When...? Where!? I'll be there as soon as possible."


End file.
